When a hermit and a scientist are snowbound in a cabin in the woods, the sparks they generate just might melt it all down in this scorching and sensual romance.

Scientist Bethany Morgan discovers the schematics to a world-changing recycling system that will help her realize her greatest dream: providing clean water to the world. The only problem? She must track down the creator, a Dr. Anderson, to help her complete the prototype, and he’s been missing for decades.

James Anderson has clung to the quiet, pain-free existence he’s made in the mountains since his father’s death years ago. But when the determined scientist he rescued gets snowed in at his cabin for an undetermined time, his world is turned upside down…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt:

Her pillow would not stop wiggling. She gritted her teeth, furrowing her brow. Cracking one eye, she found herself staring at flannel. A short distance away, her hand lay sprawled across a row of buttons. As she watched, her hand rose and fell.

Ah, not a pillow, then. James.

She opened her other eye and raised her head a bit, gazing down at their bodies. She was all over him, plastered against his side with her arm across his chest and her leg across his thighs.

She didn’t know what had happened to James’s fastidious blanket wall, but she’d probably had something to do with its demise. She craned around enough to look over her shoulder without relinquishing her hold on her lumberjack pillow.

Six award-winning authors bring you six *sweet to sensual* romances filled with suspense, thrills and maybe even a ghost or two—for less than the price of a cup of coffee—99 cents!

Welcome to La Bonne Chance Resort & Casino!

With thousands of people passing through the casino’s doors on a daily basis, it’s no surprise that a variety of lives and loves are on the line there. It’s said that you’re more likely to lose your heart at La Bonne Chance than a hand of poker. Whether you are the Director of Casino Operations or the guy who created its software, a jilted bride or a black jack dealer, a past guest’s ghost or a sous chef–when it comes to love, the stakes are high.

Tagline (20 words) What happens at La Bonne Chance, doesn’t always stay at La Bonne Chance. Are you ready to roll the dice?

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Excerpts and Author Fun Facts

Excerpt from An Inn Decent Proposal by Sharon Buchbinder

After the hotel auction, a stunned Jim Rawlings and excited Genie King go to Sips, a local coffee house. Overwhelmed with self-doubts verging on buyer’s remorse, Jim begins to question his sanity. Genie, on the other hand, is bursting with enthusiasm and ideas…

“Why did you want this place?”

“The old girl called to me, begged me to save her.” He gave Genie a wistful smile. “Do I sound crazy?”

“You call the Inn ‘she,’ too?”

“Yes, she’s like a grand old dame who’s fallen on hard times. Remember the parties? The famous people who stayed and played there? Celebrities came to the Inn because they knew their privacy and secrets were safe with us. If those walls could talk! Every day was new and exciting. I would love to bring back her glory days.”

Genie leaped up, ran around the table and hugged him. “I have the same dream. We can do it.”

He hesitated for a moment, then returned the gesture, his hands unable to resist lingering on her luscious curves just a tad too long. Genie’s inviting cleavage made him wish they were somewhere private. He could scarcely breathe and had to shake his head to dispel naughty images of nuzzling her soft breasts. “We can do what?”

She sat down again, but clung to his hands. “I’ve done the research. The Inn should be in the National Park Service Historic Registry—but it isn’t. If we can get her added to the Registry, there are laws and standards about how we make the rehabilitation. We can bring it up to modern codes, but have to use certain treatments—”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but where will we get the money to do all this?” He wasn’t sure he could afford too many more big gambles like this last one.

Her face flushed and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled. “If we can get her added to the Registry, we’ll qualify for special low interest loans. And for a major tax credit. And we have a million dollars in equity.”

“Pretty, smart—and you say you can cook? If you can do all that, you are a genie.”

She released his hands, pulled her shoulders back, and inadvertently gave him a better glimpse of her bosom. Genie gave him a scalding look. “Are you challenging my cooking, Mr. Rawlings?”

Uh-oh. He never dreamed of Genie having a little temper. He couldn’t resist tweaking her. “I’m sure you’re a solid cook.”

She stood, almost knocking her chair over. “Solid? What the hell does that mean? Average? Good enough to make the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner for the family—but not good enough to cook for guests? Tell you what, Mr. Critic, you come to my house for dinner tomorrow night.” She scribbled her address on a business card and threw it on the table. “My food makes men go weak at the knees.”

Hypnotized by the sway of her voluptuous ass as she stalked out of the nearly empty café, Jim bet it wasn’t just this saucy woman’s cooking that made strong men weak.

About Sharon Buchbinder

Sharon Buchbinder and her husband used to breed and show Egyptian Maus and Color Point Persians (formerly called Himalayans). If you’ve ever seen the mockumentary, Best in Show, you have an idea of what life was like 24 out of 52 weekends a year for this wild and crazy couple. When Sharon returned to school for her PhD in 1986, she decided a doctoral program plus a toddler plus a full time job was more than enough and they placed all their cats in good homes—including their own.

* * *

Excerpt from Perfect Odds by Lashanta Charles

Callista is meeting her fiancé at the airport so they can fly out to N.Y. where they’re supposed to get married, but it seems plans have been changed without her knowledge.
“James? Where are you? They’re boarding everyone now,” I say when I answer.

“I’m not coming,” he says.

I pause in making my way to the attendant station. Surely I heard him wrong.

“Hang on a sec, let me ask them how long we have before they can no longer wait. If you’re here already it shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll just need to hurry. Like, sprint through the airport or maybe get one of those guys on the carts to give you a ride somehow.”

The attendant smiles at me and holds her hand out for my boarding pass. I move to give it to her, but hear James speaking again.

“Cali, you’re not listening. I’m not there. I’m not coming,” he says.

Pulling my boarding pass away from the attendant, I force a smile and step away for privacy. “What are you talking about, James? I’m here waiting for you.” As if he doesn’t know that. He helped me load our luggage into the car before I left this morning. Is this some sick joke he’s pulling right now?

“I’m not coming, Cali,” James repeats for the third time.

I stare numbly at the ‘now boarding’ screen above the attendant. I heard him the first two times. It makes as much sense now as it did then – none.

“I don’t understand. You can’t not come. I can see if they’ll schedule us for a different flight. I’m sure it’s not too late. We’re getting there early enough that one day won’t really matter,” I tell him.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. He’s annoyed? We’re two weeks away from our wedding and I’m at the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia, sans fiancé. I battled an hour and a half of traffic to get here and get us both checked in two hours early, lugged all our suitcases – overweight, I might add – only for him to call when it’s time to board the flight to New York and tell me he’s not coming, yet, he’s the one who’s annoyed?

“I don’t know what else to say, Cali. I’m trying to do right by you here. We both knew this wouldn’t end well.”

I splutter. Try as I might, I can no longer get the words to flow from my mouth to have this conversation. We didn’t know anything of the sort. Do right by me? How is standing me up for our wedding doing right by me? I didn’t ask to marry myself. I didn’t insist on us having a short engagement or me moving in with him. I definitely didn’t count on any of this.

About Lashanta Charles

So I don’t really have anything too witty, but I have a 6-year-old with a sharp tongue. One of the things I always tell my kids is that mommy and daddy knows everything. So one day I’m taking my daughter to the store to buy toys with her birthday money. This is how the conversation went:
Her: So, who gave me this birthday money?

Me: Poppy (Grandad)

Her: Oh, I really miss Poppy. I want to go see him.

Me: Well, you have to wait until this summer, when you’re out of school.

Her: Why?

Me: Because you have to learn things in school and if you miss a day, you’ll miss what you need to learn and then you won’t know everything.

Her: Ohhhhh, you mean like you and daddy don’t really know everything even though you say you do?

Me: *speechless*

* * *

Excerpt from A Ghost To Die For by Keta Diablo

Rooney encounters a stranger in her hotel room and soon finds out he’s a ghost!

Rooney looked at the man through narrowed eyes. “You weren’t at the séance on stage, so what then, were you in the audience?”

No, I was on stage, but kind of hanging around in the background. He put his hands in the air, palms out. I swear, I won’t hurt you, but I been lurking around this hotel for two months now wondering how I was going to get out of this mess. Then you arrived at La Bonne Chance with your sister, you know, the fabulous Fontaine sisters, the crème-dela-crème of psychics, and my prayers were answered.

She snorted. “I’m not a psychic, mister, so if that’s your angle, you picked the wrong sister.”

No, I picked the right sister. Now if only I can get her to hear me out.

“I don’t want to hear you out; I want you to get the hell out of my hotel room. Like now!” When he didn’t comply, she moved the can of hair spray until it loomed inches from his face. “I’m going to count to three. If you aren’t out of that chair and out that door by then, I’m giving you a face full of hair spray.”

Go ahead. Maybe then you’ll realize what I am and listen.

“You asked for it.” She held the nozzle down and let him have it right between the eyes. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t react at all. Much to her dismay, she didn’t even have the satisfaction of seeing him blink. The drizzle and aroma of hair spray hung heavy in the air but didn’t seem to bother him nearly as much as it did her. Through a series of chokes and chortles she managed to eke out the words. “What are you, some kind of weirdo with inhuman defenses?”

A ghost.

“What!”

You asked me what I am and I’m telling you. I’m a ghost.

Eyes wide, voice in shriek mode, she fell onto the edge of the bed and glared at him. “You can’t be a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts!”

Understandable. Neither did I until I became one.

She reached out and touched his arm, more to prove him wrong than anything else. A startled scream escaped when her fingers danced through vacant air. Coming to her feet, she paced a small area beside the bed. “This can’t be happening. It isn’t possible.”

That’s exactly what I said when they pushed me off the balcony and I wound up in this state.

She resumed her prior position on the bed. “Someone pushed you off a balcony?”

More like tossed me over, right here at the La Bonne Chance Casino, seventh floor, two months ago.

“Two months ago? You’ve been wandering around here for two months?”

He released an exasperated sigh. I thought you might be a good listener, but I’ve said that twice now. Two months ago I died, and yes I’ve been hanging out here, twiddling my thumbs and trying to figure out what to do next.

“You can’t leave the hotel?”

Not yet, anyway. I’m working on it, but you have no idea how much energy it takes just to project my voice. No one else has been able to hear me, or see me, until you, Rooney, and now I seem to be experiencing a renewed sense of energy.

“Stop saying my name as if we’re besties.”

Well, after that séance and the conversation you had with Violet about your little sister, Vanessa, I kind of feel as if we are.

About Keta Diablo

Keta once dressed up as old man on Halloween and picked up her 9th grader at school in costume! Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased. In fact, he refused to get in the car. She followed him out of the parking lot and down the street for two blocks before he’d even look at her. Yes, he finally got in, but didn’t appreciate her humor…at all. Update: He’s in college now and says the “old man” incident is now one of his fondest childhood memories.

* * *

Excerpt from Raising Kane by Kat Henry Doran

Lt. Kieran Pollack signs in to work and comes up against the woman of his dreams: Mallory Kane, ace investigative reporter. Unfortunately she’s just spent the night in jail and is in no mood to speak with anyone–particularly a cop.

Anything I need to know before I head upstairs, Sarge?”

“It’s all there.” The night duty man passed him the report from the previous platoon. “The usual pugs, thugs and mugs threw themselves a circus down at The Dirty Dawg last night.”

Kieran scrawled his name on the sign-in roster. “Again? Somebody ought to look into closing down that pest hole.”

“I bet the Mayor is thinkin’ along those same lines. With the Chief on vacation and the Deputy Chief at a meeting out of town, as PIO it’s your job to handle the fallout. Lucky man.”

Fall-out? “What are you talking about?”

A woman with mile-long legs and hair the color of roasting chestnuts strode past the desk, heading in the direction of the revolving door.

“Overnight guest,” the sergeant advised under his breath. “TV Reporter. I was you, I’d head that one off at the pass.”

In addition to a talent for scoping out shapely legs, Kieran possessed the good sense to act on sound advice. After shooting both cuffs and ensuring his tie hung straight, he glided up beside the woman. “Excuse me, miss?”

She stopped, threw back her shoulders, then turned. “Yes?”

In the shimmer of an early morning sun he saw a nasty bruise blossoming across one cheekbone and winced. “Does that hurt as bad as it looks?”

“Who are you and what do you want?”

She possessed a voice designed to make a man think of hot nights and cool sheets. Extending a hand, he launched into his usual PIO song and dance. “Kieran Pollack, Public Information Officer for the Victory PD. What’s a pretty thing such as yourself doing in a joint like this?”

The screech of tires on the street outside obscured any response she might have made. Panel vans bearing the logos of the local TV affiliates disgorged reporters and camera-persons who wasted no time in storming the doors to the Public Safety Building.

Kieran attempted to head her off at the pass with a fast two-step and a faster line of bull. “Look, can you help out this hard working public servant?”

She raised one hand to shield her injured cheek. “Not without my attorney.”

“Aw, now. Why do you want to go and do something like that? We don’t need no lousy lawyers to make things right, do we?”

“I believe it’s somewhere in the Bill of Rights,” she murmured, eluding his out-stretched hand with a fast step to the left.

“Please. Hear me out,” he pressed, one eye on the camera-persons now jockeying for position just inside the doors. “I can make this all disappear―if we could go someplace to talk. It would be to your advantage, I promise.”

A spark flared in those dull, pain-filled eyes. “I’d sooner walk barefoot through a nest of pit vipers than spend one second alone with any member of the Victory Police Department.”

About Kat Doran

There was the time I played private duty nurse for my uncle, after he underwent a resection of an aortic aneurysm. Very scary for a number of different reasons. It became my job to ensure Father Joe got sufficient rest which boiled down to playing traffic cop and time-keeper on visitors. On one afternoon, I could see Joe was fatigued and needed a nap. As I rounded up the crowd to send them out the door, one smirked at me. “Who’s Nurse Ratched, Joe?” he asked.

I said, “Who are you, the Pope?”

He said, “Close to it, honey. I’m the Bishop.”

Aw geez.

* * *

Excerpt from For Money or Love by Margo Hoornstra

Lindsey Carr’s two best friends, Rita and Anne, discuss exactly why she and her mega-millionaire boss, Daniel Montgomery, are no longer romantically involved.
Shooting Lindsey a quickly manufactured smile, she turned her full attention to the eye candy. “No doubt about it. Those are bedroom eyes.” She trailed her fingertips over Daniel’s forehead, down his cheek and onto the outline of his lips.

Lindsey brought both hands to her lap under the table, locked her fingers together and squeezed. It was a four-page spread in Today’s Tech magazine. The picture of Daniel’s forehead, cheek and lips.

An important distinction to remember. If that had been her boss in the flesh he’d be blushing beet red from all the fluttery female attention. Daniel Montgomery was different than most other powerful millionaires. Those she’d heard about anyway. Certainly drop dead gorgeous as had been established. With a mile wide shy streak not many people knew about or even suspected. Hands still clasped, Lindsey leaned away from the display.

Anne slid her glass aside and moved up to fill the void, her critical gaze focused on Daniel’s picture. “I’m never sure what the term ‘bedroom eyes’ means.”

“Not droopy or sleepy.” Rita didn’t bother to look up. “Sexy. There’s no other word for it. Well, maybe erotic would fit. I must say, Lindsey. It amazes me you can work side by side with this man day in and day out and manage to keep your hands to yourself.”

“It’s easy.” She murmured the blatant lie. Very easy. He does the same and then some.

“You and this marvelous specimen.” Rita waited until Lindsey glanced up then met her eye to eye. “As a couple, are old news, right? That’s what you’ve said.”

“Absolutely.” Purposely lowering her voice, she mentally counted to five before she spoke again. “We did the dating thing for a while.” She shrugged one shoulder for effect. “It didn’t work for us.”

Lindsey took a small gulp of wine to avoid having to share more, and was relieved when Rita and Anne went back to hunk browsing. Trying her best to ignore the fact it was Daniel’s hunk they browsed, she gave up to give into her own thoughts about the man. Bowing to a mutual attraction that became evident soon after they met, Lindsey and Daniel dated for a time. A very short time, consisting of a few casual dinners, a couple of movies. That one night in….

“Why didn’t it work for you exactly?”

Unsure who asked the question, Lindsey looked up then blinked. “It just didn’t.” She slowly let out a breath. “I don’t think of Daniel Montgomery in that way.” Much anymore.

“Then why are you blushing?” Her sharp gaze unrelenting, Rita leaned considered her from across the table. “Care to share?”

I’ll have no peace around here until I do. Taking her time to indulge in another sip, she completed a long, slow swallow then licked her lips.

About Margo Hoornstra

Becoming a coffee connoisseur wasn’t an instant fall head over heels event for Margo Hoornstra. Initial cups were loaded with milk and sugar. When the children arrived, two AM feedings coupled with six AM risings for work necessitated more indispensable caffeine. Flavored, iced, lattes and such, a true coffee aficionado, she covets them all.

* * *

Excerpt from Take A Chance On Me by M.J. Schiller

After chasing leads at the station, Cash returns to his home where his partner, Ian, is supposed to be watching over the murder witness, Harper…

Cash slowly pulled his keys out of the door, examining the pair. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Right, Ian?”

Ian nodded loosely. “Nothing. Like she said.”

Cash closed the door and set his keys on the end table. “Uh-huh.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “What’s behind your back?”

Ian shot a glance at Harper. “You’re on your own.” He ducked into the kitchen.

“Coward,” she mumbled out of the side of her mouth.

Cash moved forward, and she took a step back. He lunged, catching her, and causing her to scream. He wrestled the bottle from her hand and brought it out where he could see it. Ian ran in, his concerned gaze darting to Harper. He stopped and put a hand over his heart, leaning against the side of the archway between the two rooms.

“Hmm.” Cash took a step back, tilting the bottle. He fought the smile tugging on his lips. “Is this my Jäger?”

Ian and Harper looked at each other with open mouths, but neither spoke.

Cash ambled over to the coffee table and clinked the bottle against the shot glasses as he set it down. “So—and correct me if I’m wrong—it looks like, while I’ve been out working my ass off, the two of you were busy getting snockered.”

“Oh, no.” Harper shook her head. “We were working hard, right, Ian?”

Ian made an attempt to stand straight, but swayed comically. “We were working hard.” He nodded, but turned to Harper. “What were we working hard at again?”

Cash put his hands on his hips. “Well, I hate to tell you, friends, but the cat’s out of the bag now.”

“Cat? What cat?” Harper laughed, seeming to be slightly more sober than her partner in crime, his partner.

“He has a cat?” Ian seemed genuinely confused, looking around for the feline. “You never told me you had a cat.”

Harper sputtered and broke into laughter again.

Cash sat, hiding his chuckle. She was so damned cute. He put his feet on the coffee table, spreading his arms out along the top of the couch. “Whose idea was this anyhow?”

They pointed at each other.

“It was mine?” Harper asked. Ian nodded. “Oh. It was mine.” She smiled and didn’t appear to try to hide her pride.

Cash shook his head, staring at them for a moment. He stood and pulled out his phone. “Okay, Ian. I’m calling you an Uber.” He punched some buttons. “Chrissy’s gonna kick your butt. And the next time she sees me, she’s gonna kick my butt.” He looked at his screen. “Two minutes away.” He came over and put his arm around Ian, steering him to the door.

“I’m leaving?”

Cash grabbed his jacket off a recliner. “Yes, you are. Maybe the night air will sober you up some.”

“I doubt it.”

Cash laughed. “I doubt it, too. And you, little missie—” he swung around to point to her.

She looked about, then put a finger on her chest and mouthed “Me?”

“Yes, you. Don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ll deal with you when I get back.”

About M.J. Schiller

One day–when M.J.’s triplets were about two, and her eldest four–she was doing laundry and matching up the socks, one of her least favorite chores. She lined them up all along her arms as she hunted for their mates. After a bit of fruitless searching, she glanced at the time and realized she needed to hustle to be on time for a prayer service she was attending at her church.

She made it in time, her four children in tow, and removed her coat before kneeling to say a prayer. An half hour later, as she piously prayed along with the congregation, her eldest asked, “Mommy, why do you have a sock on your shoulder?” She had missed removing one of her husband’s long, mateless gym socks!

The one Carson never thought he’d see again could be the one to save his life.

Carson never expected to see his dog or a man from his past ever again. His ex took Dragon when he left, then carelessly lost the dog. Dragon’s been found and in the last place Carson expected to find him—a vet’s office.

But, the surprises just keep coming.

Carson hasn’t seen Alec since school, but the feelings he had for the man haven’t abated.

When he’s reunited with Alec at the veterinary office, Carson’s got to face his feelings.

The vet turned around and smiled. “You must be Carson Welles. It’s nice to see you.”

I clamped my teeth together to keep from drooling. Eyes the color of the ocean, just enough scruff on his cheeks to cause a light burn during a kiss and those lips. Good thing I had the dog to shield me. I had to get myself under control or he’d call the cops for indecency.

He stuck out his hand. “I assume you can talk.”

I shook my head. “No—I mean, yes I can talk.” My skin crawled. The last man who got to me was my ex, Leon. Fuck. This guy had me forgetting the very manners Mama took years to instill in me.

“I’m glad we got Dragon, here, in when we did. He’s malnourished and needs a dental cleaning.” Dr. Niemi hiked one side of Drag’s jowls up. “He’s been chewing on things he shouldn’t have. I’d like him to come back in for a cleaning and to make sure he’s up to date on his shots. Can you tell me why he was loose?”

I stared at the vet, deciphering his words. I knew he’d spoken English, but I felt so out of sorts. Cleaning… shots… why was he loose? Oh, hell. “My ex took him when we split. Leon wasn’t much for closing doors or gates. My guess is Drag saw an open door and made a break for it. He doesn’t mind being confined if he’s got something to eat or a chew toy to attack.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. Find out more about Megan and Wendi at: http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm

Thank you so much, Linda, for having me at your lovely site today to talk about my new romantic suspense/adventure Lapses of Memory.

Lapses of Memory follow the exploits of two journalists, Sydney Bellek and Elian Davies, as they travel the globe reporting on various world catastrophes. In one of their encounters they find themselves embroiled in the early stages of the revolution in Iran and only barely escape. A few years later we find them rivals in the search for a scoop on the Lebanese Civil War. At one point they are separated and Sydney finds comfort in another’s arms.

Having lived through some of the events that Sydney and Elian confront, I wanted to convey both the excitement and the fear you feel when enmeshed in a world-shattering crisis. As reporters, Sydney and Elian sensed that something important was happening, but couldn’t know the extent or the consequences of it. As lovers, their evolving romance was often interrupted by their ambitions or the vagaries of war. Many times, a happy ending seemed far from secure. And yet…and yet…I hope you find the story as romantic as I do.

Sydney Bellek first meets Elian Davies in the 1950s when she is five & he is seven. While he knows from the start that she is his true love, she does not. Later, as rival journalists, they vie for scoops on international crises. The handsome and intrepid Elian beats her out at every turn, even while keeping his love for her secret.

Only after years of separation does she finally realize they are meant to be together, but, in a twist of fate, it is Elian whose memory of her is gone. Will he remember her before she loses heart or will their new love be enough to replace the old one?

Walker ordered a salad. Finishing it quickly, he sat back to watch Sydney eat, an affectionate smile teetering on his lips. An hour later, she scraped the last droplet of chocolate icing from her plate and patted her bulging stomach. “That was delicious. Thank you, Walker.”

“I’m glad I can be here for you.”

Sydney fought her heavy eyelids back to the open position. “Speaking of, when do you have to go back to Turkey? You’ve been here over four months—I thought you were only assigned here temporarily.”

“Oh,” he said carelessly, “you know the military. Everything takes longer than they expect. Which brings me to tonight’s topic.”

“Hmm? I didn’t see an agenda. Don’t we have to approve the minutes first?”

“Waived.” He pushed the candle aside and bent toward her. “Sydney? I’ve asked for a permanent transfer to the Pentagon.”

“Oh?”

“They’ve tentatively agreed but require proof that the grounds I gave are justified.”

Sydney stifled a yawn. It’s after eight o’clock, for heaven’s sake. I wish he’d get on with this. She thought of the hot bath waiting at home and forced a smile. “And what’s that?”

Without thinking, she opened it. Long seconds clicked by. Sydney stared at the ring. Walker stared at her. The couple at the next table stared at them both. The waiter passed by their table and stopped to stare. Finally Sydney took a sip of water and whispered, “Oh, my.”

No one seemed particularly impressed with this response. The waiter raised his hand as if to suggest a more appropriate reply, and the woman at the next table whispered loudly to her companion. Sydney caught the words “milk” and “cow.”

As she opened her mouth again, praying that something sensible would issue from it, Walker as usual let her off the hook. “Look, take your time. I just thought…” He raised his hand to signal for the check and almost took the waiter’s eye out.

“I…I…” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t answer him. Not yet.

They left a small crowd glaring at their retreating backs and muttering disgruntled objections. Walker drove her to her house in silence and left her at the door.

Sydney stumbled inside and collapsed on the couch. Something hard gouged into her hip. She pulled out the box. The diamond was quite large, the setting very simple. It is a beautiful ring. A long-lost memory rose like Venus from the sea, a memory of a plastic ring with a large pink crystal. Elian had found it on the beach in Tangier. He’d tried to give it to her, but she’d run off laughing. When he caught up with her, she had puffed, “I’ll wait for a real diamond,” and pushed his hand away.

Elian had tossed the child’s ring down and mumbled, “Okay.”

Should I have taken the toy? Something told her she’d still be wearing it. And I’d never be able to move on. No. She picked up Walker’s offering and slipped it on. Mrs. Walker Adams. The Adams family. Party of three. It just might work.

About the Author

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the Torpedo Factory Art Center.

Ms. Spencer has published ten romantic suspense novels, and has two more in utero. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

After a passionless marriage under the scrutiny of high society, Avery Stowe is taking back her life. All she wants is a little privacy and a quiet place to raise her autistic daughter, Hailey. Redwood Ridge, Oregon, seems to offer all the right ingredients. Except for the problem of the local sexy veterinarian. The last thing she needs in her life is to fall for his irresistible allure, even if he is a nice guy who keeps doing her favors. But the well-meaning patrons of her new hometown have other ideas, and it appears playing Cupid is one of them.

Cade O’Grady has never met a woman he couldn’t handle, but when Avery Stowe walks into his office late one night cradling an injured puppy, he’s struck stupid. Which might explain her total lack of interest in him. But now that she’s working for his family’s clinic, he doesn’t have to lust from a distance. He might just have a chance at convincing Avery—and her too-guarded heart—that falling for the right man isn’t a mistake . . .

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EXCERPT:

Avery wiped her hands on a dish towel and went to answer the incessant knocking. Hoping it was the moving van, she pulled the door open to find Seraph’s vet. “Oh.” She took a step back and blinked. “It’s you.”

The Jerk, she’d begun to call him in her head.

Looking just as attractive as he had the night before, sans the irritation, his hands framed the doorway as he leaned into them, taking up the whole space. Sandy blond hair, a little on the longish side, curled around his ears and nape. Blue eyes damn near the color of the Pacific in June warily stared at her. A little gray mixed in to keep them from being too potent.

His jaw had a day’s worth of scruff and the man rocked a set of powder blue scrubs under an open leather coat.

God. He was an eye-gasm if she ever saw one.

When he didn’t say anything, her heart started to pound. “Oh, no. Is…Seraph all right?” She turned to peek at Hailey, who was doing a numbers app game on the iPad at the kitchen table.

“He’s doing fine. Recuperating very well.”

His voice had her pausing, just like the night before, but today it wasn’t as angry. It wasn’t quite coarse or too deep, but there was a melodic rhythm when he spoke. Great. So his voice was an ear-gasm on top of his too handsome looks. Crap on a cracker.

She caught herself wrapping the towel around her hand in nervousness and stopped. “Then why are you here?”

Pushing off the frame, he towered over her five-six height to what had to be six feet. “I came to apologize. May I come in?”

“Um, sure.” She held the door open wider and glanced at Hailey. If he got upset again or had a naturally loud voice, it could upset her. “Sweetie, why don’t you do that in your bedroom for a few minutes? I’ll be in soon.”

Hailey grabbed her device and headed down the hall.

“She doesn’t talk much, does she? For a girl, I mean. Thought they were all chatter boxes.” He laughed uncomfortably and rubbed his neck.

The guy had adorable charm in spades.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Bestselling author Kelly Moran says she gets her ideas from everyone and everything around her and there’s always a book playing out in her head. No one who knows her bats an eyelash when she talks to herself, and no one is safe from becoming her next fictional character. She is a Catherine Award-Winner, Readers Choice Finalist, Holt Medallion Finalist, and earned one of the 10 Best Reads by USA Today’s HEA. She is also a Romance Writers of America member. Her interests include: sappy movies, MLB, NFL, driving others insane, and sleeping when she can. She is a closet caffeine junkie and chocoholic, but don’t tell anyone. She resides in Wisconsin with her husband, three sons, and two dogs. Most of her family lives in the Carolinas, so she spends a lot of time there as well. She loves hearing from her readers.

Worst. Day. Ever. After Lyssa Barnett’s sister tricks her into reprising her role at Snowflake Valley’s annual children’s party, she doesn’t think anything can be worse than squeezing into her too-small elf costume. Then tall, dark, and way too handsome Nick Tavlock shows up to play Santa…and an unexpected storm leaves them snowbound in the isolated lodge.

The last thing Nick wants is to spend a cozy Christmas Eve with a trio of kids and the woman who dumped him. But as much as Lyssa frustrates him, he can’t stop thinking about her. And soon, he’s fighting very un-Santa-like thoughts of kissing a certain sexy Miss Elf under the mistletoe. As Nick starts to fall for Lyssa all over again, he knows it will take nothing short of a miracle to have Lyssa in his arms on Christmas Day.

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Excerpt:

Someone’s going to pay for this.

Nick Tavlock stared at the woman in the elf costume and swore under his breath. When his so-called friend and associate Michael DeFranco had roped him into playing Santa at his lodge for a second year, he’d agreed to do the man the favor. Michael brought a lot of business his way. But this was pushing friendship and client satisfaction too far.

He’d had Michael’s word there would be a new elf this year.

He swallowed his irritation. Or tried to. “Lyss—”

“Hello, Santa!” she interrupted with a meaningful glance at the kids around them.

“Saved by an elf,” he murmured. “Almost put my boot in my mouth with that one, didn’t I?” He was still trying to pick his jaw up off the floor after the enthusiasm of her greeting. Too bad she hadn’t meant that beautiful smile for him. Too bad she had dumped him months ago, or he’d have had more chances to see that smile of hers. “Thanks for the warm welcome. A big surprise, considering the chill of your last good-bye.”

“Those Arctic blasts at the North Pole will do that to an elf.” She smiled again, but her eyes didn’t meet his. “So…Santa, are you ready to hear some wish lists?”

“Sure am,” he said in his best jolly-old-Saint-Nick voice.

He followed her to the velvet-covered chair set in a cleared space beyond the fireplace. Though the flames danced behind a safety screen several yards away, he’d already started to sweat. And it didn’t have a thing to do with the fire or the extra padding inside this Santa suit. His quick inspection of Lyssa had his temperature soaring, something he should have anticipated. She had always managed to get him overheated—in the best way possible—every time he was around her.

“Santa?” Her brows rose to fur-trimmed cap level.

“Huh?” Great. After all the years he’d spent attending his parents’ cocktail parties, that was the best he could do? But any sophisticated comment he’d ever learned had flown right out of his head.

He couldn’t let Lyssa throw him. Clamping his jaw closed, he resettled his own cap firmly and raised his brows back at her. She gestured with both hands, indicating the mob of children now surrounding him. How had he missed that?

Lyssa provided more distraction than he needed.

No, Lyssa didn’t provide anything for him anymore.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

She frowned at him over the kids’ heads. Her cheeks had turned pink, and not from the fire, he’d bet. The glow certainly didn’t come from overheating herself, either—not in that skimpy elf suit. That outfit led him naturally to other visions of her he’d had the pleasure of seeing over the past year. But this wasn’t the time or place to relive those memories.

Chapter One and book links:

Find the complete Chapter One of Snowbound with Mr. Wrong and bookseller links here: http://bit.ly/swmw-pg

About the Author:

Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest. Though they love the warm winters and the lizards in their front yard, they haven’t gotten used to the scorpions in the bathroom. Barbara also loves writing, reading, and chocolate. Come to think of it, she enjoys writing about those subjects, too!

Barbara wrote her first short story at the age of nine, then typed “The End” to her first novel many years later…in the eighth grade. Now she’s writing contemporary romance on a daily basis, with a brand-new series from Entangled Bliss (Snowflake Valley), an ongoing series from Harlequin Western Romance (The Hitching Post Hotel), and many more books on the schedule.

In men: a man of action and adventure – I’m obsessed with Indiana Jones

In food: hot Indian curry

In clothes: stuff that’s on sale – I love a bargain!

What is your greatest weakness? Spending way too much time on Facebook

What inspired you to become a writer? I have been writing stories since I was a little girl, always with the goal of being a novelist someday. I started writing romance about 15 years ago because it seemed like a good fit for my style.

What is your favorite book? I love the whole Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon. The TV series is amazing too.

What is your favorite movie? Raider of the Lost Ark or The Fugitive – anything with Harrison Ford I can watch endlessly.

What do you have out now? My new release is A Baby for New Year’s. It’s the second book in my Holiday Bundles of Joy series, but you don’t need to have read the first one to enjoy it.

Blurb:

After an emotionally destructive marriage, Meg has settled into a quiet life as a single mother. When her pregnant teenage niece arrives at her door, seeking shelter, Meg finds herself caught in a family drama between the girl’s parents. She hasn’t seen her estranged sister Kelly or her former brother-in-law Evan in years, but she hasn’t forgotten her secret crush on him when they were teenagers. Now that he’s single again, he still makes Meg weak in the knees. As the New Year brings complications she never thought she wanted, should she listen to her heart and take a chance on love?

Evan stood waiting at the top of the stairs, a small smile hovering on his lips. “They’re great kids,” he whispered.

“Yeah, they are. And you’re going to be an awesome grandfather,” Meg added with a quiet chuckle. “You know, before Julie was born, I couldn’t picture you as a dad. But you were a natural with her right from the start. And right now, I honestly can’t picture a kid calling you ‘Grandpa.’ But I know you’ll be wonderful.”

His smile widened. “Thank you, Meg. That means a lot to me.”

She meant to walk past him and head downstairs. But she paused beside him, overcome with feeling for him, and lifted her hand to touch his face. She caressed her fingertips across the coarse day’s growth on his cheek, her thumb grazing his soft mouth. The dim light from the living room glittered in his beautiful eyes.

“You’re a wonderful man,” she murmured.

Evan’s lips parted slightly. His warm, intent gaze tangled with hers, while his hand covered hers and he pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of her thumb.

Awareness quivered from Meg’s hand straight to the pit of her stomach. Her heart slammed against her ribs with a blow that made her catch her breath.

She knew she ought to suppress her feelings. She should walk away and send him straight back to his hotel. But she stayed rooted to the floor, only letting her hand fall from his mouth as he bent to graze his lips against her temple.

If you could have any kind of car, what would it be? For my lifestyle it has to be a rugged SUV

Your dream home – mountains or ocean? Mountains

What inspired you to become a writer? An overactive imagination and long summers alone in a cabin with no phone or television while my husband was out fighting forest fires.

Do you have a daily writing routine? If so, please share. I don’t really have a daily writing routine. The mood has to strike me. I’ve never been one that can set aside a specific slot and force creativity.

What is your favorite book? Amazonia by James Rollins

What is your favorite movie? Sahara

Who is your favorite historical figure? Amelia Earhart

In your books, who is your favorite hero and please introduce him? That’s a tough one, but I’ll have to go with Deuce from Big Horn Storm. What woman can resist a tall handsome cowboy, who refuses to give up on the woman who stole his heart?

Who is your favorite heroine and please introduce her? It would have to be Devyn Nash from my Risky Research series. She was introduced in the first book, A Dose of Danger, but we start getting to know her better in A Taste of Tragedy. Devyn is a socially challenged, tough and gritty FBI agent, who isn’t all that good at playing by the rules, yet has a tender heart buried under layers of insecurity.

What do you have out now? My latest release is a Taste of Tragedy. Here’s a short blurb and excerpt.

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Blurb:

Morgan Hunter sacrificed everything for her career. She had yet to encounter anything she wasn’t willing to do to succeed . . . until now. When she uncovers evidence that the healthy foods she’s been hired to promote may be dangerous, she must reevaluate her priorities. As questions mount and the body count rises, she finds herself caught in the crosshairs of an organization that will stop at nothing to hide its secrets and protect its profits. With no one else to trust, Morgan is forced to seek help from the man she drove away, but whom she never stopped loving.

Excerpt:

“Here, let me help you,” Morgan said as she draped Devyn’s arm around her shoulders.

Morgan tried to relieve as much weight as she could from Devyn as she helped her hobble to the waiting vehicle. Once Devyn was seated in the cramped back seat, Morgan dug out her emergency supply bag. She handed Devyn a blanket and a bottle of water. “I have a first aid kit, but I think you need something a little more than a bandage.”

“It’s just a few scratches. I’ll live.”

Morgan could see why Nick trusted Devyn with his back. As she looked at the battered and bruised woman, who had taken off into the desert in the middle of the night in bare feet to prevent a criminal from getting away, she had to admire her. Devyn had to be in extreme pain, yet not a complaint escaped her lips.

“Make room in the back,” Nick huffed.

Morgan looked up to see Nick trudging toward her with an inert Aaron slung over his shoulder. She raced to the tiny back cargo area and moved a few items around so Nick could squeeze the body in the vehicle.

“Is he dead?” Morgan whispered.

“Not quite, but we need to get him medical help A.S.A.P. The bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but I’m not sure how much damage he suffered from the knock to the head”

Morgan watched as Nick set the man down in the vehicle, and then she joined Devyn in the back seat. Turning around and kneeling, she was able to lean over the seat and assess Aaron’s injuries. She folded up a handkerchief and placed it over Aaron’s gunshot wound and applied pressure. She wasn’t sure which was bleeding more, the bullet hole or the bump and cut to the head, but she had to try and slow the blood loss any way she could.

“That’s all we can do for now,” Nick said. “Just keep the pressure on the best you can.”

Morgan nodded as Nick secured the back and then got behind the wheel.

“You okay?” Nick asked as he turned to face Devyn.

“I’ve had better days, but sadly, I’ve had worse.”

New releases anytime soon? I’m working on my third novel in the Risky Research series titled, A Foundation of Fear. In this novel, we get to know the criminals and those trying to bring them to justice much more intimately, and learn that even the most ruthless assassin may have something to fear.

Kim McMahill grew up in Wyoming, which is where she developed her sense of adventure and love of the outdoors. Kim started out writing non-fiction, but her passionfor exotic world travel, outrageous adventures, stories of survival, and happily-ever-after endings soon drew her into a world of adventure and romantic suspense. Along with writing novels, Kim has also published over eighty travel and geographic articles, and contributed to a travel anthology and cookbook. Kim currently resides in Colorado, and when not writing, she enjoys gardening, traveling, hiking, and spending time with family

Thanks so much for having us today Linda. I have a new, spicy excerpt from my Caribbean romance Whirlwind Romance to present to your readers.

Blurb:
In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on an island on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken to a tiny island in the western Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin and a cadre of loyal followers, she and Armand must face down pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue, if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical island to its former glory.

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The heroine of Whirlwind Romance, Lacey Delahaye, lives in a house facing Sarasota Bay on a barrier island or key, on the Gulf coast of Florida. She has just moved there and wants to explore the area for wild fruits which she plans to make into jellies. There are many different biological habitats in coastal Florida, from dry hardwood hammocks to mangrove swamps. Returning from a foraging trip, she discovers that a hurricane had passed through, leaving the key out of power. She gets her generator going, and pours the well-deserved glass of wine, when she hears the moans of a human in the nearby mangroves. Thus starts the adventure.

Excerpt (R): First MatingShe looked at the water and then up at the sky, now pitch black. Heavy rain clouds obscured the stars. I sure as hell don’t want my last pair of shorts to get wet with no way to dry them. She shimmied off her shorts and pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed them under the kayak. As if on cue, the moon broke through and bounced off the water, illuminating both the yard and Lacey’s body, clad only in panties. She heard a gasp, and hastily sank under the water. Poor guy, I shouldn’t have subjected him to a nearly forty-year-old physique. She held out her arms. “Sorry about exposing myself, but we’ve no electricity and I don’t want my one clean shirt to get soaked. Now come on. I’ll hold you.”
He raised his eyes from her breasts and nodded. With the moonlight full upon him, she saw that he sported a rough, dark beard and shaggy hair. Homeless? Or grooming for a movie role? Standing about six feet tall, he was younger than she’d thought at first. His dark eyes glittered in the pale light.
“If you’re ready…” He slid down the ramp into her waiting arms. She bent down and pulled the torn jeans off, then unbuttoned the remnants of his shirt. He clung to her, his body trembling. She tried to ignore the stench rising from him, but as she worked, somewhere down below her bellybutton parts of her kindled and something that wasn’t bay water oozed out of her. It had been five years after all—five long, desolate years since she’d been with a man. She’d accepted the possibility that she might never have sex again. Haven’t thought about it in weeks. Now the steady throbbing of a hard penis on her thigh unexpectedly liberated buried desire, and she butted against him.
He fell over in the water and came up spluttering. “What did you do that for?”
Good question. Hand to mouth, Lacey backed away. Her foot landed on a crab, which did not take kindly to the assault and chomped down hard on her instep. Yowling, she lunged forward, landing in the stranger’s arms again. This time he took advantage and crushed her to him. One hand pulled down her panties. She didn’t argue but spread her thighs so his cock could slide into her vagina. The water and mud made entering her all the easier, and they clung to each other, swaying back and forth. He must have found a purchase on the ramp for his thrusts grew stronger. Lacey reveled in the power of the man. She loved that he took control, that she could simply acquiesce and enjoy. The orgasm floated up from the depths and roared out of her mouth. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” He redoubled his pistoning, and as she began to shudder, he gave one last shove and sighed. She felt something warm mix with the cold bay water sloshing around her. The man didn’t speak but, keeping his penis inside her, bent to kiss her lips.
Lacey let the water ripple around her, washing off the mud and the smell. After a minute, the man released her and ducked under the water. He came up shaking his head. A passing cloud veiled the moon and all she could make out were two brilliant eyes, streaks of starlight flashing in them. He whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
The words smacked into her like her father’s belt did that day he caught her smoking in the alley. Oh. My. God. What have I done? How wanton could I be? And how stupid? This guy could be a rapist, an escaped convict—or worse, married! Here she was, acting like some Hollywood harlot screwing in an airplane lavatory. Yeah, it felt wonderful. But…oh, dear. What to say? “Never mind?” How about, “I do this with all shipwrecked sailors?” “Do it to me one more time?” Instead, she slogged up the ramp and turned. “You coming?”

About the Author:
Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the Torpedo Factory Art Center in Alexandria, Virginia.

Ms. Spencer has published ten romantic suspense and murder mystery novels. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Sex, drugs, and country music. That was the lifestyle for Emily Kendall, a Texas girl who hit it big on the country music charts–until she found herself pregnant and battling addiction. Now out of rehab and seeking a new life for herself and her unborn child, Emily returns to her hometown of McAllister. The last thing she’s looking for is trouble, no matter how good it looks in uniform. . .

A widower, single father, and former Army Ranger struggling with PTSD, Sheriff EJ Cowley hashis own demons to battle while keeping folks safe. The last thing he needs is a troubled celebrity speeding through town in her bright red Mazerati. But when someone from Emily’s past threatens her safety and the peace of McAllister, EJ has no choice but to protect her. And soon both will learn there’s more to the other than meets the eye. And that wounded hearts can love again. . .

Excerpt:

As he reached in the glove box for his pad of tickets, he whistled between his teeth. A Maserati with a Tennessee plate. His computer was in his official Tahoe, which was parked at the station, but he could ticket the driver and enter the citation when he got to the office. Opening the door, he picked up his hat from the side seat and put it on his head as he slid out of the pickup. He caught the female driver watching him through her side mirror and got a glimpse of dark reddish hair and big-lensed sunglasses covering most of a slender face from her reflection.

She straightened in the leather seat and smiled as he stopped at the driver’s door, ducking down to look at her. Despite the sunglasses covering her green eyes, he knew her. The magazines and TV hadn’t done her justice. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her auburn hair was styled in a short pixie cut that seemed to make her look even more like a fairy than he’d thought of her when she was younger. A sudden flutter hit his gut and rattled his thoughts. What the hell was he nervous about? He’d met famous people before. Besides, he’d known this girl all of her life.

In spite of the reason he’d stopped her, he smiled. “Well, if it isn’t Emily Ritter. Haven’t seen you around here for years.”

Her smile fell the moment the name Ritter slipped out of his mouth. “I don’t go by that name any more and haven’t since I was fourteen.” She shot back as she glanced at his badge and the nametag above it on his uniform shirt. “Edward James Cowley.” The smile returned, but this time it held a hint of mischief. She must have remembered how much he hated his full name and used it to get back at him for his flub. “You’re the sheriff now? You get out of the Army?”

“I got out a little over two years ago, and yes, I’m the sheriff.” EJ pushed the brim of his hat over his forehead. God, he had to focus. “The reason I stopped you wasn’t to engage in small talk. You were speeding. I’ll need to see your driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

“C’mon, since when does anyone care about speeding on this old stretch of cow path?” She removed her sunglasses to reveal eyes the color of spring grass. They’d always seemed to mesmerize him, even when she was a kid, and now wasn’t any different. “Hell, the only people out here are my family, the Ritters, your family, and the Campbells.”

Her voice broke the trance her beauty put him under. She definitely wasn’t the girl who’d followed him around when she’d come over to the Double K to visit John Kendall, never knowing the old rancher was her grandfather.

“Actually, I own the Campbells’ place. They sold the Arrowhead Ranch a year ago after Uncle Joe had a heart attack. He and Aunt Sally moved to Arizona to be closer to my mom and dad.” He had to remember this woman wasn’t the innocent little girl he’d teased any more. Or a stunning woman he’d like to get to know better. From what he’d heard on the radio and from the tabloid covers he’d read while standing in line at the grocery store, she’d turned into a drug addict and party hellion after marrying a British rock star. He didn’t even like her music anymore, and there was a time, he’d thought she had the voice of an angel. The thought of her throwing away her talent on booze and drugs sent a spear of anger through him. Someday she’d undoubtedly end up as dead as Raquel had. He held out his hand. “Your driver’s license, Ms. Kendall.”

She reached for her purse, setting on the passenger’s seat, and pulled out her license, then rummaged through the glove box for her registration and insurance papers. As she handed the items to him, she smiled the sweet, breathtaking smile he’d seen splashed on magazine covers and award shows, but it never entered her hard eyes. “Fine. Here you go, Sheriff Cowley.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Although Sara Walter Ellwood has long ago left the farm for the glamour of the big town, she draws on her experiences growing up on a small hobby farm in West Central Pennsylvania to write her contemporary westerns. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for over 20 years, and they have two teenagers and one very spoiled rescue cat named Penny. She longs to visit the places she writes about and jokes she’s a cowgirl at heart stuck in Pennsylvania suburbia. Sara Walter Ellwood is a multi-published author and publishes paranormal romantic suspense under the pen name Cera duBois.